The Halfling
by TigressDreamer
Summary: One day can change so much and two days can rearrange everything. Seventeen-year-old Bog stares at the wooden carving of the fae called Halfling after one such day and in a flash, his world will never be the same ever again. (Warning - Mentions of character deaths and portions of angst. Rated to be safe. If it needs a different rating, tell me!)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer for the entire story: Sadly, I do not own Strange Magic, although I do have the DVD that I play once a week. All events, names, and places are coincidental. Enjoy the story!**

 **Somehow, watching several versions of the nutcracker started this. I apologize for poorly written fight scenes but this story fought against me from the start.**

 **(Slight edit as of February 6, 2020)**

 **Chapter 1**

 _"Once upon a time, not so long ago, in the realm of the fae there dwells two kingdoms side-by-side. One is of the forest and the other of the field, each with creatures suited to it. Both had a royal family that lasted throughout generations for longer than anyone could remember and both had a young king sitting on the throne, the last of their royal line. That, however, was the end of their similarities. For while they were not at war, many of both kingdoms could barely tolerate the other because they were also different._

 _"In the forest kingdom there dwells goblins, trolls, gremlins, forest fairies, and forest sprites. There is also an imp that took residence there but nobody is sure where he came from. In the field kingdom there dwells elves, brownies, field pixies, field fairies, and field sprites. They were similar but they were different._

 _"One day, the forest king had found his true love but his love was in a far-off kingdom and could not return with him to his own. He had a hard decision to make but make it he did. He crossed the border for an audience with the field king and in the presence of their counselors a pact was made and an oath was sworn._

 _"I, King of the Field, do swear to ye, King of the Forest, to treat yer subjects as ye would until yer return, on crown and kingdom do I pledge._  
 _With such an assurance, the forest king left his counselors in charge of the forest and put his crown aside. It was sorrowful to leave his home but the kisses of his new bride..."_

 _"Ewww! Leave out the mushy stuff, Da!" the six-year-old complains._

 _Loch laughs heartily while Griselda looks on fondly from her rocking chair, barely covering her own snickering. Bog glares up at his parents before turning to stare into the fireplace. The winter storm rattles the windows, making the child shake but he stubbornly holds his place._

 _"Come now, my little prince. Don't be like that," Loch murmurs, dragging his son into his lap. "We're not making fun of ye just because we laugh about something ye said. We just find it funny that in a few years ye'll be changing yer tune about the mushy stuff."_

 _"No way!" Bog insists. "Girls have cooties!"_

 _"Is that so?" Loch asks, grinning up to his wife. "Where'd ye hear this from?"_

 _"The lad that moved into Grandda's house told me and he knows a lot because he's nine," Bog answers._

 _"I think I'm a little older than nine," Loch states is mock seriousness. "Don't ye think I'd tell ye if girls really did have cooties? I kiss Ma all the time and I haven't caught them, neither have ye."_

 _"That's true," Bog mutters. "Angus didn't say whether ma's have cooties but they're girls too and I saw his ma giving him lots of kisses. I wasn't sure he was right but he is older so I thought he would know more. I should've asked ye because ye know everything, Da."_

 _Loch's deep laughter rumbles against Bog's back and soon the boy's laughter rings with as large hands tickle. Pushing them both off the floor, Loch spins around several times before dropping into his armchair._

 _"Let no one persuade ye to do or think something that ye don't believe yerself," Loch comments after the laughter stops. "Just because they might be older doesn't mean they will offer wise counsel suit to ye. Do ye understand?"_

 _"Not really," Bog admits._

 _"That's alright. One day ye will," Loch reassures. "Just remember, my little prince, ye are yer own man and while ye should listen to the counsel of others, provided they know what they're talking about, it is best that ye follow yer own heart."_

* * *

 _"Good morning, Mr McIntosh!" the ten-year-old greets._

 _"Good morning, Bog!" Tavish answers._

 _"Are ye needing milk?" Griselda asks from the open back door._

 _"No, our cow is giving plenty but thank ye all the same," Tavish remarks. "I came to ask ye a favor. Would ye mind looking after Angus for a few hours? Emily has an appointment with the midwife and unlike his sisters, that lad just doesn't sit still."_

 _"I could use an extra set of hands today," Loch mentions, pausing in his task of sawing a log. "Bog and I were just about to start the spring plowing in the lower field before someone mentioned that we were getting low on firewood because of the baking that needed to be done today for market. She also decided that Bog was her son and as such, I lost my helper to the queen."_

 _"What pray tell is the queen baking today?" Tavish questions. "Emily and I might be persuaded to lend our three lasses in exchange for some Montrose Cake."_

 _Bog hollers happily as his mother accepts the offer and the morning passes quickly as the boys tackle the chopping and plowing while the girls bake mouthwatering treats. The returning parents help the work pass quicker and after a hearty meal, Loch regales the children with a story at his son's insistence._

 _"Long ago, in the realm of the fae, the war-like meadow kingdom had set its sights on conquering the more docile fae of the field kingdom. The terrible meadow queen was greedy for more and was never satisfied but she was no match for the courageous forest queen._

 _"Noticing the turning tide of battle as the stronger-winged meadow fae overpower the field fae through dirty fighting, the forest queen sounds the charge and the forest bursts with fighters on the backs of birds and insects. Under the weight of the renewed energy, the meadow fae are subdued and the meadow queen is forced to surrender to..."_

 _"That's not fair!" Angus interrupts. "The forest kingdom and the field kingdom cheated!"_

 _"What makes ye think that?" Griselda asks, taking a sip of tea._

 _"Two against one? It's not fair," Angus points out._

 _"Didn't ye hear my da? He said the meadow kingdom was fighting dirty, which means they were already cheating. Besides, it's not like they were fighting for a good cause or anything, they were just being bad," Bog argues._

 _"That's correct, my little prince," Loch praises. "The meadow kingdom was being bad, very bad in fact. Ye're all too young to be told what really happened but I will tell ye that this battle is the reason that the royal families of the forest and the field had only one member left in my first story. This happened when the two young kings' grandparents were children."_

 _"So, the forest queen is the forest king's great-great-grandma?" Bog asks, getting a nod. "Is the meadow kingdom really more powerful than the other kingdoms?"_

 _"In a fair fight, no, but the meadow kingdom rarely fought fairly," Loch remarks. "The gnomes, meadow pixies, meadow fairies, and meadow sprites were not really different from the fae of the forest and the field but with each new monarch, they began to forsake the old ways and became restless in things that stayed the same. Know this, children, sometimes change is good and proper but if it makes ye change who ye really are then it is a bad change. Follow yer heart and be who ye are, even if ye're different."_

* * *

 _"Da, how did ye meet Ma?" the fourteen-year-old asks._

 _"In my dreams," Loch answers._

 _Bog quickly sets the basket of eggs down inside the back door before turning his attention to his father. Loch chuckles at his curious child, taking one last swing on the ax and gathering the chopped wood._

 _"I dreamt of her for as long as I can remember and Ma dreamt of me. True love is like that," Loch remarks. "Ye dream of the one ye're meant for, of the experiences they had that day, and by the time ye actually meet ye already know them."_

 _"Does everybody dream of their true love?" Bog questions._

 _"No, only a few get that privilege. It's a powerful magic to bind two souls together," Loch explains. "Why'd ye ask, my little prince?"_

 _Bog looks toward the barn and around the farm. The Scottish summer breeze ruffles his ash brown hair as he surveys the landscape and as always, his blue-eyed gaze is drawn to the large lone hawthorn at the forest's edge. The ring of mushrooms crown the ground around it and the primroses hide under its shelter._

 _"What if I don't have a true love, Da? They already tease me because I'm different from the others, not a true Scot, and since Angus started dating Heather, it's...," Bog sighs._

 _"Ye are a true Scot," Loch insists, turning his son's head to look at him._

 _"What Scot is named Bog King?" Bog mumbles._

 _"We're from an old clan, ye and I, from before they got their fancy titles, and like the land, we choose who we are," Loch comments before grinning. "Besides, ye ain't king yet, my little prince."_

 _Griselda shakes her head from the back door as she watches her boys get muddy from their wrestling. With a sigh, she grabs the bucket and fills it full of water from the pump. The air rings with yells and laughter as perfect aim brings cold water rushing onto skin._

 _"Make sure you get all the dirt off or ye'll not be coming into my house," Griselda warns._

 _"Have mercy, my queen!" Loch begs playfully. "At least boil us some water for a warm bath, this water is freezing."_

 _Bog laughs as his mother wanders too close and is pulled down into the muddy arms of her husband. His cheeks flush red at their kisses but the wide grin refuses to leave his face despite the embarrassment. No one could say his parents didn't love one another._

 _"No worries, my little prince," Loch reassures, holding Griselda in his lap. "Ye have a true love and one day ye'll meet her. On that day, ye'll hold her close and her heart will beat in time with yers for the rest of yer lives."_

* * *

 _"Bog, yer Ma and I won't be back until late. So, make sure...," Loch trails off, noticing Bog's rushed movements. "What are ye hiding, my little prince?"_

 _Reluctantly, the seventeen-year-old pulls out his drawing pad from underneath his bed and hands it to the waiting man. Loch raises an eyebrow at his son's embarrassment before looking through the coveted object._

 _"So, this is what ye've been doing with yer coins. Nothing to be ashamed of," Loch muses as he turns the pages._

 _"I'm not a baby," Bog mutters._

 _"Of course not," Loch agrees. "I don't see how yer drawings would make ye think ye are."_

 _"Fairytales are for children and I'm an adult," Bog mumbles. "But I can't help it, Da."_

 _"Ye're not an adult until the day after tomorrow, my little prince," Loch teases. "Angus being trouble again?"_

 _"I was drawing in the barn several months ago when he came to get milk for his new baby," Bog admits, opening his dresser to reveal more drawing pads. "I tried to forget it but even dating Angelina didn't make the dreams go away."_

 _"Dreams?" Loch questions sharply, pausing in his looking of the other sketches. "Ye've been dreaming about these...girls?"_

 _"They're the same girl, Da," Bog corrects before shaking his head. "But fairies aren't real, they're just tales told to amuse babies. The forest and the field kingdoms are just something ye made up, she's someone I made up. Angelina accused me of holding my affections for another and just stringing her along. I was a fool to show her these but I thought that she would like them since she loves fairytales too. The dreams have gotten darker and more violent but that's probably because of Angelina breaking up with me. I haven't had any dreams in several weeks, of her or of anything."_

 _Loch pauses his questioning as one of the sketches catch his eye. The winged girl frowns at a group of winged folk while standing between them and a group of smaller ragged-looking creatures. The crown sitting on her brow is tilted and her arms are crossed in defiance._

 _"What's happening here?" Loch asks._

 _"She was supposed to be getting married last spring and had wanted to invite the forest folk but the field folk refused," Bog explains. "In all my dreams that I can remember she's been trying to help the forest folk but her own kingdom, her own father, refuses to hear her call for the fairer treatment of them. In your stories, the forest kingdom was prosperous but in my dreams, it's dying each year. She's been fighting so hard and...Oh, what am I talking about? It's just dreams and stories and fairytales! It's not real!"_

 _"Bog...," Loch starts_

 _"Loch, we need to get going," Griselda interrupts, poking her head into Bog's room. "Tavish said that they reported on the telly that a storm was coming and if we want to get home before it gets here than we need to leave now."_

 _"Alright, my queen," Loch remarks. "We'll talk when I get home, my little prince. Make sure the livestock is bedded down and the barn is shut up tight."_

 _"Wait!" Bog yells as his parents bundle up. "Maybe ye should wait until tomorrow to go into town. I don't think ye should go out."_

 _"I'd agree with ye, dear, but Hamish insists on having the quilts by this afternoon or he's canceling his orders," Griselda comments. "Besides, Plum will be here tomorrow and ye know how she hogs all the attention once she arrives."_

 _Even the mention of his eccentric aunt does little to calm the bees swarming in his gut as Bog watches Loch help his wife into the car. With a jolly wave, the older man enters the driver's side and backs onto the long stretch of road._

 _The day passes slowly and with worried eyes, Bog stares at the approaching evening with trepidation. Exiting the barn after penning up the animals, the car approaching through the heavy snow draws his attention._

 _"Bog," Tavish greets, exiting the vehicle._

 _"What's happened?" Bog asks._

 _"I'm so sorry, lad."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Shaking the memories away, Bog looks up into the pre-dawn lit sky. With a heavy heart, he holds the large jar carefully above the ground and slowly shakes the contents out as he walks around the lone hawthorn. Once empty, he smashes the ceramic jar hard against the ground.

"We are from the land and to the land we return," Bog recites. "Their magic is now yers to command."

Removing his gloves to wipe at the tears, Bog walks slowly to the barn to do his chores. He does not notice as the thick blanket of snow melts from around the leafed hawthorn and reveals the vibrant mushroom ring and the blooming primroses. Nor does he see the bright shimmering as the dawn's light breaks over the horizon.

The bellowing, baaing, clucking, and quacking greet the heartbroken boy but it offers no relief as the animals look expectantly toward the door. Old Ada snorts as Bog tries to lead her to the milking stall and then the stubborn cow lays down in protest.

"Come on, Old Ada. Ma can't milk ye anymore," Bog murmurs, tugging her halter again. "Ye're going to have to let me do it. Ye didn't have any problem last night so come on, ye silly girl."

Finally getting each cow milked, Bog quickly heeds the complaints of the other animals for food and fresh water. His chores take longer without two more sets of hands but Bog holds back the tears as he carries the eggs and milk back to the house.

"Some things are the same but everything's is different," Bog mutters.

The familiar form of Angus coming up the road gives Bog comfort but their usual form of greeting has no warmth in the bitter cold. Even the semi-warm house does not chase away the chill from around Bog's heart as he sets the milk pails on the counter. He ignores Angus' look of disapproval at the inside temperature and says nothing as the older man stokes the dying fire in the living room before helping Bog find where Griselda placed the milk jugs.

"Ye going to be okay, Bog?" Angus questions.

"Aye," Bog answers, pouring the fresh milk into the jugs.

"Do ye want us to come sit with ye for a spell?" Angus asks.

"No, that's alright. Aunt Plum should be here before too long. Thank ye, though. I just...," Bog chokes. "I knew they shouldn't have gone out yesterday! I should have done something more!"

"Nothing more that ye could've done, lad," Angus consoles, patting the younger man's shoulder. "No one can predict a falling tree, especially one that healthy. Besides, the bloody idiot would have still thought driving drunk in that weather was a good idea. The police said that yer da saved a lot of lives by forcing him into that hedge and knowing yer ma, she was probably ready to give him something more than a hangover to recover from."

Bog chuckles waterly at the truth of that. Sending Angus off with his needed milk and a promise to look after himself properly, Bog forces himself to eat something for breakfast as the quietness of the house bears heavily down on him. The walls glare harsh reminders of the everlasting change in his life. The sound of bells alerts him to his visitor as Bog cleans his meager dishes.

"Happy birthday, Boggy!" Plum greets as she enters the door.

"Bog and my birthday isn't official until tomorrow, Aunt Plum," Bog corrects, grinning slightly at the traditional argument.

"You were born on the winter solstice and that lasts from dawn to dawn according to the old ways. Therefore today is the start of your birthday, even if you aren't an adult until tomorrow morning," Plum insists, kissing his cheek. "Where's Loch? I need to talk to him."

All at once the familiar crashes down under the weight of the new reality and with fresh tears Bog explains the events of yesterday that led to the heartbreaking news of last night. The trip to town with Tavish to retrieve his parents was still like a blank void but he tries his best to recount faithfully to his only family left. The older woman rubs his watery cheek before giving it another kiss that seems to soothe a bit of the pain and make it easier to talk.

"I was hoping ye'd arrive early because I didn't want to lay them to rest without ye but Da insisted that if anything happened to him to have him cremated and spread around the hawthorn before the sun rose the next day with the same instructions for Ma," Bog adds. "He said that it was a tradition that must not be broken. I waited until near sunrise before I did as he instructed but it was before the sun rose."

"I thought something was different," Plum mumbles, pulling an item out of her tote bag. "You did well, Bog. I guess that leaves me to explain your clan heritage but that's after I pay my respects. Oh, and this is for you."

Bog grabs the cloth-wrapped item and feels a spark a curiosity chase the gloom. Plum's gifts were always exotic since the strange woman could never stay in one spot long. For longer than he could remember, Plum always came the day before his birthday and was always gone the next morning for a new adventure. Unwrapping the cloth, the odd shape becomes firmer until wood is revealed and one last move uncovers the whole object.

"Halfling?" Bog gasps, staring at the carved image.

"You know her?" Plum questions.

"Uh...well, kinda," Bog mutters. "It's just a story continued from the one Da told me growing up. Halfling is half-field folk and half-forest folk. She's thought to be the offspring of some unverified union or even the daughter of the forest king but the truth is..."

"Continue, Bog," Plum gently commands. "The truth is what?"

"She's cursed because of her love of both kingdoms and torn into halves of each," Bog answers lowly. "In her quest to restore the forest kingdom to its former glory, she leads a band of forest folk rebels against the field kingdom."

Bog squirms a little under Plum's sharp gaze, her own blue-eyes seeming to sparkle with stars, and he's reminded of his thoughts of her when he was a child. He'd known growing up that she wasn't really his aunt or any blood relative to either of his parents but the story went that she had done such a great thing for his parents that they had made her part of the family since she had none of her own. She had always been his aunt, though, and when he was little, he sometimes thought she was a fae because she always seemed to sparkle. Now, with her contemplating appearance, Bog can almost swear that she looks like she's surrounded by a blue light. A blink, however, reveals the white-haired woman the same as always and Bog mentally smacks himself for letting his imagination run away with him again.

"Hmm, maybe it isn't Loch that I need after all. I'm going to pay my respects, Bog. I'll see you in a little while," Plum remarks, heading out the back door and shutting it.

Bog watches his aunt walk toward the hawthorn before directing his attention back to the carving. It was exquisitely done and so lifelike, even down to the murderous expression. Bog chuckles, taking his new prize into the living room and setting it down on the mantle. The roaring fire warms him up as Bog studies his present. She was exactly like he dreamed of her and his heart pangs as he wishes she was real. Something scurrying across the floor directs his attention away and he looks around.

"Great! Just what I needed, a bloody mouse," Bog mutters, looking around Loch's armchair.

Odd chattering, almost like tiny laughter, causes him to swiftly turn back toward the fireplace. His jaw drops at the thing sitting next to the carving. The small white furry creature, probably no bigger than his thumb, opens its long snout to laugh again as its long tail waves the tiny glowing pink bottle it's wrapped around. A tiny paw waves to the stunned man before uncorking the bottle and in a flash, it sprinkles some of the contents onto the carving before scurrying away fast.

"Puck! Get back here!" the used-to-be carving screams.

Bog stares as the winged girl takes flight after the creature and barely moves out of the way as the creature jumps onto the lamp. He grabs the lamp before it crashes into the floor and sets it upright again before turning his attention back to the creature traveling fast across the couch. With a startled yell and the creepies running rampant through his body, Bog tries to stay still as the creature jumps onto him. The girl just misses the little thing and with another laugh, the dreadful sound of the bottle uncorking by Bog's ear rings out. Turning his head, Bog watches in horror as the contents are thrown toward him and then darkness takes over.

"Are you okay, Bog?" a feminine voice rings out.

"How do I look?" Bog grumbles.

Getting his bearings back after the small span of darkness, Bog sits up and looks around from his place on the floor. The surrounding area looks both the same and different and with dread, he looks up to the barely-smaller-than-him girl fluttering over him.

"What just happened, Halfling?" Bog groans.

"Puck happened."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"I'm little! How am I little?" Bog yells.

The Halfling snorts as she watches the shrunken human pace on the floor. She really should have listened to Stuff when the goblin told her not to trust Puck but she was sure the imp would do as he promised and take her to the forest king. Now she has a bigger...make that a smallish-bigger problem. Scanning the area for the missing fae, she glares at him on his perch on the mantle, to which he just laughs.

"Calm down," Halfling murmurs.

"Calm down? I'm like seven or eight inches tall! I was over seven feet, ye know!" Bog points out.

"Well, freaking out sure isn't going to help," Halfling mutters, flying down to the distressed man. "It's easily fixed. All we have to do is get Puck to change his mind about whatever reason he shrunk you for."

Puck chatters in chirps and squeaks from his perch above them, causing both to look up.

"What! What do you mean you can't unshrink him?" Halfling yells.

Bog looks to her in shock as Puck chatters some more. Then the imp, looking un-apologetic at this turn of events, runs out of the room. Halfling growls, scrubs her face and runs her clawed hands through her leaf-like hair.

"How do I get unshrunk?" Bog asks in the silence.

"He said the only one that can unshrink you is the forest king," Halfling mutters.

"The forest king? But that's just a story Da told and so are ye," Bog insists, ignoring her amused look. "I must have hit my head or...wait, I know. This is just a hallucination brought on by grief, perfectly natural. Aunt Plum will come wake me up and everything will be fine...well, almost."

"Hate to disappoint you but I'm real," Halfling mentions, lightly punching his shoulder.

Bog winces at the contact and rubs the sore spot. Uncertain, now that his hopeful idea was crushed, he looks toward the fae creature in front of him. What skin he sees is tan against the purple and black armor, armor that seems apart of her, somehow like a beetle's shell. Her wings are narrow like the forest fairy but instead of full transparency, it's like the field fairy with its butterfly colors in shades of purple and black that change with the light. Her short chestnut-colored hair makes Bog almost snicker at its disarray but he's unsure if it's from a lack of care or if it's stuck like that.

"I know I'm a freak but you don't have to stare," Halfling grumbles, her amber eyes burning with anger.

"What? No, no, I don't think ye're a freak. Ye're different," Bog smiles. "I like different."

Halfling turns to hide her smile and blush, fluttering her wings a little. With an amused huff, she waves Bog to follow as she walks toward the kitchen. Noticing his father's necklace on the ground where he was standing when Puck changed him, Bog picks up the non-shrunken pendant from the broken shrunken chain and follows.

"Come on. We need to find the forest king to fix this and Puck says we both need to go to the old castle. Of course, if he was in the fae realm to start with then I don't know why Puck brought me to the human realm. I'm going to wring his scrawny neck when I get a hold of him," Halfling mutters. "Is there a portal nearby?"

"A portal? There is a hawthorn close, that's if all the fairy stories are true," Bog mentions. "But if all the stories are true then that means it'll be dangerous for me to go to the fae realm because of time differences."

"Actually, our timelines run parallel to each other and time differences are usually the result of a trick to make the human think no time has passed. The problem is that no human can live a long time in the fae realm and be able to return to the human realm without trouble because they become molded to our realm," Halfling explains. "The kingdoms of forest and field can't be accessed from the human realm except during the equinoxes and the solstices. That means that we have until the sun rises tomorrow to get you the right size and you'll be able to come home. However, if you don't return by sunrise, you'll never be able to return because by the time the portal opens again it'll be too late and you'll die if you touch human realm soil."

"That's a comforting thought," Bog mutters. "How did ye wind up a carving?

"Puck," Halfing growls. "I thought that he might know where the forest king was and he said he did. Next thing I know, he pulls out that cursed potion and dusts me. Since Puck said that today is the winter solstice that means he dusted me several weeks ago."

"I wonder how Aunt Plum wound up with you," Bog muses before freezing. "Aunt Plum! I need to tell her what happened so she doesn't worry."

Bog races toward the kitchen, the longer trek annoying him, but he finally reaches the door before freezing again at the cold air sweeping into the house.

"Aunt Plum shut that door," Bog states. "How is it open? I didn't hear her come in, did ye?"

"No, I didn't," Halfling mutters, setting down next to him. "In fact, I don't hear or sense any humans nearby. Is there anyone else here?"

"Just Aunt Plum. Ye don't think Puck dusted her too, do ye?" Bog asks.

"Would your aunt be quiet if she did get dusted?" Halfling counters.

Bog pictures the scene and bursts out laughing at Plum's possible reactions. Shaking his head no, he wipes the mirthful tears away and nearly forgets the staff-like pendant in his hand.

"What is that?" Halfling questions, finally noticing the long object.

"It's a family pendant," Bog answers. "Funny thing is, I was wearing this when I shrunk but this didn't shrink with me, even though the chain did."

"Huh? That's weird," Halfling remarks, studying it closely. "It seems to have some magic in it that protects from other magic but it didn't do you any good."

"No kidding," Bog mumbles. "I really need to tell someone what's going on. Aunt Plum will freak out if I disappear."

"There's no time. You'll be back tomorrow, Bog. I promise," Halfling smiles. "I really don't think Puck is leading us on, no matter how abstract the route is. He wants the forest kingdom restored just as much."

Still a bit worried and praying that his aunt would forgive him, Bog nods his agreement and follows her to the open door. Within minutes his strength of resolve is tested as he looks at the white tundra in front of him and shivers rock his frame, reminding him of the heavy coat beside the door.

"Halfling, I'm going to freeze to death before we even get to the hawthorn," Bog complains. "Are ye sure ye need me to come along? I'll just be slowing ye down with my lack of wings and without my coat, I'm not going to last long in this cold weather."

"Puck said that you had to come as well," Halfling answers, flying up to his coat. "Maybe I can try to magic the coat. No guarantees that it will un-magic when you return to normal, though."

Bog watches as Halfling touches the coat and mumbles a chant. He feels a tug on the inside, nearly painful, but before he can figure it out it disappears and Halfling flies down with his shrunken coat.

"It worked!" Halfing cries happily. "I wasn't even sure that I could do it. Here, put it on and I'll fly you to the hawthorn. It'll be easier for you to travel once we get into the fae realm."

Bog shrugs the warm coat over his sweater. Clutching the pendant to him, he prays for his father's guidance and nods up the waiting fae. With firm but gentle arms, Halfling clutches Bog to her and takes off into the morning sky.

"Try going closer to the barn," Bog suggests, his eyes barely opened.

Halfling grunts, doing as he suggested but the morning sun is harsh against the white landscape. Squinting her eyes, she can just make out the hawthorn in the distance with its color.

"Brace yourself. I'm going to try and go straight for it but I can't make out any predators in this bright light, so I'm going to have to go fast," Halfling calls.

Giving his acknowledgment, Bog holds onto her arms to help her grasp and tries to scan for anything suspicious. The wind bites against both of their skins as Halfling flies as fast as she can toward the dark object in a sea of white. Heeding Bog's warning, she drops closer to the ground and barrel rolls. The croaking of the large bird echoes in their ears as glinting gold causes it to miss but the draft from its black wings sends Halfling tumbling through the air. Shimmering light blinds them further.

"Are ye okay, Halfling?" Bog asks as she lands.

"Yeah," Halfling answers, shaking off her disorientation. "Good thing that you took that staff with you and that raven sent us straight into the hawthorn or we may have wound up as breakfast. I need to walk for a little while and give my wings rest."

Bog nods and follows her out from underneath the large root. Taking a look behind him, he stares at the odd scene among the snow-covered tree line.

"Come on, we need to get out of the open," Halfling calls behind her. "I'm not exactly a popular person around here, at least not for the good."

"I know," Bog admits, jogging up to her. "Ye're leading a resistance to the field kingdom's control over the forest kingdom. A rebellion of sorts."

"Some resistance," Halfling snorts. "If you know that then you also know that most of the forest folk don't really agree with what I'm doing even though they hate what the field kingdom has done. There's only a handful of us rebelling. Let's just hope I have any friends left after disappearing for thirteen weeks."

The pair walks in silence as they head deeper into the forest, if you don't count Halfling's laughter every time Bog doesn't step light enough on the snow. Helping the poor man out of the snow again, Halfling flexes her wings to test their sensitivity and grumbles at the small strain she can feel.

"Don't worry. Once we reach one of the winter burrows, it will be a lot easier even if they don't want to help," Halfling reassures.

"Wouldn't it be easier to just go to the castle instead?" Bog asks, wiping the snow off.

"Yeah it would except I don't know where the forest castle is," Halfling admits. "The forest folk abandoned it before I was even a full year old. Without the forest king, it was just too difficult to maintain it along with surviving and so they just didn't."

"Right, I forgot," Bog mutters. "They abandoned it after the second winter when the majority of the forest king's counselors died because of inadequate food supplies caused by the heavy tax from the field king."

"By the time food became plentiful again, the other counselors had died as well from their weakened state. Leaving only Puck to know how to contact the forest king but he only shows up intermittently," Halfling finishes. "It's great that this is already a story in the human realm. Makes it a lot easier with someone who isn't questioning why I'm doing what I do."

"It's not a story," Bog admits, getting a piercing look. "Ye know me, just like I know ye. Ye proved that when ye called me by my name, Ma..."

"Halt!"

"Oh great, the welcoming committee," Halfling mutters.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Bog twirls the pendant like his quarterstaff, hoping his ancestors forgive his use of the family heirloom but surely they wouldn't be too upset at the results. Laughing, he steps over the groaning male field fairy and slams the ornate head against the other one trying to get up off the ground.

"Is this the best they got? Seriously?" Bog asks with laughter.

Halfling snickers as she renders her opponent unconscious using the flat side of her sword. Figuring they better get out of there fast, she sheaths her weapon and grabs ahold of Bog before flying off deeper into the forest. Ignoring the strain from her wings at the fast pace and the cold weather, Halfling maneuvers them closer to a winter burrow before landing again. She groans as she tries to reach around to rub her sore back and stiffens as Bog lays his hand between her wings.

"Here, let me," Bog suggests.

Halfling melts under his gentle rubbing, very nearly purring as he rubs the base of her wings but a small sound makes them both come alert. Halfling unsheaths her sword again as Bog holds the pendant on guard.

"Halfling! You're back!"

The little goblin runs across the snowy ground with ease to slam into Halfling's legs and hugs her to it. Bog chuckles at the forest fae's joyful muttering as Halfing raises her leg to pat the clinging goblin's head.

"Hello, Thang," Halfling chuckles. "I take it you missed me."

"Of course! Oh, we have to get out of here now!" Thang yelps. "Come on, this way."

Quickly, Thang runs back the way he came from. Bog struggles to keep up with the agile goblin, using the pendant to keep from sinking into the snow but soon he falls down again, this time sliding down a bank toward a cold-looking stream. Just as he prepares himself for a freezing bath, Bog gets jerked back and dangles slightly from his coat.

"Who are you?" the larger goblin questions, setting Bog down. "I thought humans were bigger."

"His name is Bog, Brutus. Puck played a trick on him," Halfling answers, fluttering down toward them.

"Halfling, you're back! Puck was telling the truth after all!" Brutus exclaims. "He said that you would be back with the king on the winter solstice and here you are. Where is the king, though?"

"I still don't know. Puck said that all the answers are at the old castle. Either of you know where that is?" Halfling asks, looking toward the two goblins.

"Sure we do. A lot has happened since Puck spelled you," Thang mentions. "But we really should get out of sight first, though."

Brutus nods and whistles. Within moments, two squirrels run toward the waiting group and obediently present their backs for passengers. Bog reluctantly climbs onto the squirrel and grips the pendant against Halfling's middle, holding his breath as the animal lunges forward after its companion carrying the two goblins.

"Relax," Halfling murmurs. "You know how to ride a horse."

"A horse is different," Bog mutters, pressing his face into her back.

Halfling chuckles at the familiar conversation and releases one hand from the squirrel fur to rub his white-knuckled hand. She remembers the day his father let him ride his new pony when he was seven. It wasn't until he actually fell off that he became determined to ride the willful creature. With a smile that would make any imp proud, Halfling waits until Bog releases his tight grip against the staff and pushes him off the squirrel.

"Oh, did you fall down?" she asks in concern, halting the animal's movements.

Glaring darkly from the ground, Bog pushes himself to stand and moves the giggling fae toward the back of the saddle. Getting into place, he spurs the squirrel forward and grins as Halfling grips the pendant now against his middle.

"Knew that would work," Halfling chuckles. "Because I know you, just like you know me. But that might not do us any good, Bog."

"What do ye mean?" Bog asks worriedly.

"We can't be together," Halfling sighs, leaning her head against his back. "No matter how destined we are for one another it would never work. Everything fell apart when the forest king left his kingdom to go to his true love. I could never ask you to come here because that would be your death sentence and you would never be able to see your family again. I couldn't do that to your parents."

"Da and Ma died," Bog chokes.

"What! When?" Halfling asks, pushing herself up to look at him.

"Last night," Bog answers.

"Oh, Bog! I'm so sorry," Halfling murmurs, hugging his middle. "I've been acting terrible, pretending that I didn't know you and you just lost your parents."

"Why did ye pretend that ye didn't know me?" Bog asks.

"Waking up to find out that over thirteen weeks had passed was a bit of a shock," Halfling answers. "It was like a dreamless sleep and I didn't know anything. I didn't know if you got a different girlfriend or if you moved out of your home and I figured that it would be better if I didn't bring it up."

Bog opens his mouth but instead of words coming out his jaw drops at the scene in front of him. The goblins and squirrels take them directly to a massive tree stump against the far side of a dry river. Even with it enclosed from the cold weather it is obvious of the hustle and bustle inside its structure.

"The old castle!" Halfling mutters in shock.

"Halfling!"

The pair watches as the multitude of forest folk gather around once their squirrel enters the open gate. Dismounting takes some effort with all the happy creatures nearby and Halfling gives up, grabbing Bog and flying past them.

"I guess everyone missed me," Halfling muses, settling down near the fire pit to warm up.

"I would like to start off with, I told you not to trust him," Stuff grumbles, as the little goblin walks forward. "But I guess even imps can be reliable once and a while. What did the forest king say when you told him what is going on?"

"I didn't talk to him," Halfling admits. "Imp took me to Bog's house in the human realm, shrunk him, and then told me that all our questions will be answered at the old castle."

Shock ripples over the forest folk before unease replaces it. Halfling and Bog look toward one another as a wizened old troll walks forward. The fae grumbles as she walks toward the taller pair, her scowl reflecting her disposition when she addresses the crowd.

"I knew this was a bad idea," she complains. "But nobody listened to old Babba and now we're in a lot of trouble. The forest king will have our heads for listening to this usurper and her rebellious ways. You can't trust halflings. They don't follow any rules because they don't belong anywhere."

"Now just a moment, ye old hag!" Bog yells, slamming the pendant's pointed base into the ground. "Halfling has done more for ye than ye have bothered to do for anyone, including yerself!"

Babba stares at the enraged human in shock, quivering just slightly. Stuff barely holds her chuckles back at the fact that somebody managed to shut the old crone up. Several forest sprites aren't so lucky and their twittering breaks the silence. Embarrassed, Babba tries to stand her ground against the man.

"Whatever she told you, human, wasn't the full truth," Babba barks back. "She's been teaching our young ones to rebel against the forest king's orders, even getting Puck along with her schemes, and now we are all in great danger."

"Teaching to rebel against the forest king's orders? She's been teaching them to uphold the forest king's orders, something ye have forgotten to do," Bog counters, bending slightly down so he isn't towering over the old fae. "Ye've pledge yer allegiance to the field king and have abandoned yer loyalty to the forest king!"

The crowd chatters at such an accusation, one-part enraged and one-part shocked. Stuff and Thang stare up to Halfling in shock that she told Bog such a thing. Deciding to stem the budding fight, Halfling grabs Bog's arm to pull him back but he shrugs her off.

"Since you think you know what you're talking about then why don't you explain yourself before we decide to eat you," Babba growls.

"Like Halfling has tried to tell both kingdoms, the forest king never gave dominion over the forest to the field king. He gave that control to his counselors and only gave the field king a charge to care for the forest since the kingdom's law demand that a ruler be present to ensure the denizen's safety," Bog states. "Not one of ye have tried to contact the forest king in all these years and even told the one sent by the forest king to check up on ye that everything was fine. Ye paid yer dues to the field king and sold yer lives to him!"

Babba growls and bares her teeth in preparation of attack before stopping in shock. She blinks a few times as she meditates on the human's words. The crowd murmurs as the old troll's eyes fill with tears.

"What have we done?" Babba wails softly.

"Babba?" Stuff asks.

"He's right. I remember my Jawal saying that before he passed that second winter," Babba answers. "Princess Marianne said the same thing these past few years when I was visiting the field palace."

"Then why did you object when Halfling said it?" Thang questions with a growl.

"Because the field king told us that Halfling is responsible for Princess Marianne's disappearance and couldn't be trusted," the old gremlin Waylay comments. "And we foolishly believed him over our own common sense. Princess Marianne was our greatest helper against the field king's counselors and since her disappearance, things have gotten harder for us."

"They told us that it was Halfling's fault for their actions but this season is proof against their lies," the elder forest sprite Jamma remarks. "Puck came to us after the autumn equinox and he convinced us that you were right. He left us this morning to fetch you and said everything would be mended."

"I overreacted when you said you didn't find the king. I'm sorry, Halfling. Would you forgive an old fae?" Babba asks.

"There is nothing to forgive, elder," Halfling reassures with a smile. "You are fierce in your duty to protect the forest kingdom and saw me as a threat. I knew the lies the field king's counselors told you, which is why I never pressed against you. But why did you say that we're in danger?"

"It stems from before Princess Marianne's disappearance," Babba sighs. "I remember that day quite well. It was when we came to the field palace for our winter report earlier this year and Princess Marianne was so joyful, greeting us with extra enthusiasm. She announced in front of the whole council that she accepted Sir Roland's proposal which would join the field kingdom and the meadow kingdom."

"We were overjoyed for her," Jamma continues. "But things got a little out of hand when she said that the forest folk would be joining the wedding festivities. Her betrothed was vehement against the idea as were the field king's counselors. We didn't manage to make our reports that day because of the argument that took place. Then when Princess Marianne disappeared after she called off the wedding a few weeks later, the field king accused us of being involved."

"No, it was Sir Roland who made the accusation," Waylay corrects, sitting herself down beside the fire pit. "I remember that part because he also accused us of being the reason Princess Marianne broke the engagement. Though, the field king didn't correct him when he spoke out of turn. Then Halfling started her campaign and we dealt with their harsher disdain for allowing chaos."

"Chaos? Seriously?" Halfling snorts. "They are so dramatic."

"You are chaotic!" Babba accuses. "I hate to admit it but the human is right. We did sell ourselves to the field king but it was the only way we saw to keep everyone alive or at least as many alive as possible. When more forest folk abandoned the duties the field folk demanded to tend to our old ways, we received harsh treatment when we reported to the field king."

"Halfling was right, though," Stuff insists. "This year we have enough food stored to feed everybody with more than enough until food becomes available and not one of it is the field kingdom's handouts. We grew and collected it ourselves and all of it is edible for us."

"Yes, she was right," Waylay agrees. "But that didn't stop the consequences and then we made it worse for us."

"How?" Bog asks.

"When Puck told us that the forest king would be returning, we refused to pay the tax the field king demands each autumn," Jamma answers. "They were quite furious and even more so when we mentioned the forest king's return. The last time we were summoned, about three weeks ago, they demanded that we pay a double tax or they would declare us in anarchy. It's why we abandoned the winter burrows and moved everyone here."

Bog watches as Halfling stiffens at the news and scans his memory for the lessons he learned through the dreams. He gasps as he realizes the same thing.

"How many burrows have been attacked?" Halfling questions darkly.

"All of them," Brutus confirms. "We've been keeping a few scouts out each day, just like you taught us and I saw the first attack last week. They didn't know we abandoned them and charged into the burrows. They did the same with all of them and they were carrying weapons. We're unsure if they know where we are but we made sure the underground escape routes are secured, just in case."

"We've also been stockpiling our weapons," Thang pipes up. "Puck said the forest king would not be happy about this and had us make sure all our able-bodied fighters are prepared to make him proud."

"The field kingdom's army isn't big enough to attack here, not with this many forest folk gathered," Halfling comments, looking around the large semi-enclosed courtyard.

"Don't count on it," Babba mutters. "Fang overheard one of the field folk crying several weeks ago about something that can change the balance taking place in the field kingdom today. Princess Dawn is marrying Sir Roland."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Bog sighs from the dais steps as he watches Halfling buzz around the throne room in agitation. She barely kept her cool at Babba's announcement but he could tell from her twitching wings and twitching hands that she wanted to do something very destructive. His suggestion to inspect all the preparations while they waited to discover what Puck had in mind was not enough to cool her anger even as they trekked the whole way down into the castle's winter burrow to check the escape routes. At least he gained the forest folk's respect when he suggested an extra layer of protection by adding a door between the burrows and the castle that could be barred on either side. That project didn't take too long to complete and as soon as they entered the throne room Halfling started flying around.

"Still agitated, is she?" Babba asks, sitting down beside Bog.

"Nothing is going the way it should have," Bog mutters.

"Nothing has gone right for seventeen years," Babba grumbles. "You accused us wrong, human. It was not us that told Puck that everything was alright but some field fairies that the field king stationed in the forest. They kept us from ever contacting Puck whenever he showed up. Not like we really thought of it because it wasn't even until these last few years that we realized that something was wrong with how the field king treated us."

Bog opens his mouth but closes it as he looks toward the aging troll. Clearly, the years have taken their toll on the elder and the burdens of caring for a dying kingdom have made her heart bitter and untrusting. He relaxes his posture and leans the pendant's head against his shoulder, offering a listening ear. Babba chuckles before sighing.

"The forest king was so in love and no one could begrudge him that joy," Babba reminisces. "Jawal did his duties as always but instead of reporting to the forest king, he reported to the field king. That first year wasn't much different until the autumn when the field king's counselors demanded that we pay the same tax that the field kingdom paid, a tax of food. We weren't prepared for it since we always gave tithes of food for winter storage throughout the year. Jawal and the other counselors blamed themselves for the food shortage and took less than their share of rations but that didn't do any good by the time spring came. We put nearly half of our population on the pyre that spring and so many of them were children."

Halfling pauses in her flight at the troll's story and flutters down to sit on her other side. With a bit of hesitation, Halfling raises her hand and places it on Babba's shoulder. Babba smiles slightly through her tears and pats the clawed hand with her own. The trio pays no attention as the throne room starts to fill up with curious fae.

"I, Waylay, and Jamma were the only ones who could report to the field king that spring and he declared us the new counselors since our mates had died with the rest of the counselors," Babba sniffles. "He was consoling to our loss and tried to help us rebuild. At first, it started out as giving jobs in the field kingdom to earn food and supplies. Then it started being commented around the council that the forest kingdom couldn't support its denizens and soon more of our young ones were forced to work in the field kingdom. Our food fields started dying because there wasn't enough work being done in them and hunting meat wasn't an option because everyone was too tired once their work in the field kingdom was done, so they started giving us winter rations, some of which most of us couldn't eat. Each year the spring pyre took more of us but we didn't notice the problem until Princess Marianne started taking a more political role four years ago."

"The field king's own fault for allowing the newly thirteen-year-old to start attending the council meetings," Waylay chuckles. "She waited quietly for her turn to speak but I knew right away that he would regret it. She was always like that, always escaping her keepers as a child to come question us whenever we were at the field palace. She bluntly stated that the field kingdom was doing a grave injustice toward the forest kingdom. We were shuffled out but those doors didn't block the arguing."

"Each meeting we had was the same," Jamma mentions. "Princess Marianne insisting that the field kingdom was overstepping its boundaries by treating the forest kingdom like its own subject while at the same time treating the forest folk less than the least of the field kingdom. Last year at the autumn meeting, she brought up the differences between the needs that the two kingdoms had and actually called the field king out for violating his oath to the forest king. Telling her own father that he not only overstepped his boundaries but that he also wasn't fulfilling his oath."

"That's how Sir Roland came into the picture," Stuff mumbles.

"What do you mean, Stuff?" Babba asks.

"I was still working at the field palace when the emissaries from the meadow kingdom arrived last year. I overheard the counselors instructing that oaf to woo Princess Marianne to curb her wild ways. Yeah, that was her reaction when I told her," Stuff answers to the scattered laughter. "I was with her when she confronted him about it but...well, he fooled me too, even knowing what the counselors wanted. She was shocked by his vehemence at the spring meeting because he acted so differently before and was treating me the same as Princess Marianne did."

"Love can blind you to a person's real ways," Jamma sighs.

"Wasn't love," Stuff points out. "Princess Marianne didn't love him but she was doing what she thought was the best for the kingdom and agreed to the union to join the field kingdom and the meadow kingdom."

"No, that's Princess Dawn. Princess Marianne and Sir Roland were soul-bound, like all royal matches. The field king said so," Thang pipes up.

"No, they weren't," Halfling mutters, causing the crowd to twitter. "Tell them, Stuff. I know that you know."

"Princess Marianne was soul-bonded to a human," Stuff whispers, looking around worriedly. "She used to tell me some of the dreams but she told me that after the trouble that happened when the forest king left that she was afraid of the consequences if she chose to leave. She said that she loved the two kingdoms too great to let them both die. When Sir Roland showed his true feelings for the forest folk at the meeting, Princess Marianne actually called off the engagement that day but the counselors insisted that she was being overly dramatic and convinced the field king to publicly announce it."

"This is a bad sign," Babba murmurs. "The royal family in both kingdoms have never had a non-soul-bonded couple in its lineage. It was scandalizing just to hear Princess Dawn marrying her sister's soul-bond for political reasons but to know this."

"What's a soul-bond, Granny Babba?" a young troll asks.

"It's something special that both royal houses have. From the time they are born, they're connected to the one they are destined for and dream about their lives. Their partner dreams it as well," Babba explains. "No one is entirely sure why it happens or why even non-magic partners gain magic but none has ever tried to marry another before. I can understand Princess Marianne's reasons, though, it wasn't about which she loved more but about life and death. The forest king had a hard time deciding himself and spent that year making everything as prepared as possible, even though everyone could see how an absolute mess he was once he met his true love. The forest king was grumpier than a molting owl and more jittery than a mouse in hawk's nest that last year he was here."

The fae old enough to remember start laughing at the mention of that year. The forest castle was filled with his restless energy from the vernal equinox until he left at the winter solstice.

"Although, now I wonder if maybe Princess Marianne did leave herself," Babba muses once her chuckles end. "She did disappear on the vernal equinox after all."

"Princess Marianne would never abandon us!" Stuff growls.

"I didn't say that she abandoned us," Babba growls back. "But it is possible that she crossed over to find her true love. No one but those with a soul-bond knows how strong they are and it's quite possible that the pull became too much. Especially when she resigned herself to a political marriage and dealt with the consequences of that."

"No sense in starting an argument," Halfling murmurs. "We need to save our energy and plan what we should do. Princess Marianne is gone, only Puck and Sugar Plum know where the forest king is, the field kingdom has declared the forest kingdom in anarchy, and Princess Dawn is marrying the most narcissistic male alive just so the field kingdom can enlarge its army. Anyone have any ideas?"

* * *

"That could have gone better," Bog snickers.

Halfling punches his shoulder before falling into laughter herself. Now she understood the human realm expression of being a deer-in-headlights. She had never seen the forest folk disappear so fast. The elders had managed to escape the throne room first and nearly plowed down everyone in their way. Soon their mirth fades under the weight of reality and the empty throne room reflects their thoughts.

"Not a very great birthday for you, Bog," Halfling sighs, leaning against him.

"Ye're as bad as Aunt Plum. My birthday is not until tomorrow," Bog huffs. "What are we going to do, Marianne?"

"I don't know. I haven't been this confused since Roland tried to use that cursed love potion on me and I winded up looking like this," Halfling admits. "I just made a mess of things and now everyone is paying for it. My fifteen-year-old sister is being forced into a loveless marriage, the forest kingdom won't be able to stand up against an attack without the forest king, and you, I hurt you worst of all."

"I don't blame ye, Marianne," Bog murmurs, wrapping his arms around her. "I know ye and I know why ye agreed to the counselor's arguments. Roland even fooled me into believing he had the same ideals as ye. I'm not going to lie to ye, it did hurt hearing yer arguments with yerself on why ye were willing to try and love him but I understood yer reasonings. I know it hurt ye too when I started dating Angelina but we both thought that we could never be."

"You should have told your mother about that wench," Halfling growls. "She had no right to date two people at the same time and then blame you for withholding your affections. Your mother might have done the same thing she did to Angus when he teased you when he got betrothed."

Bog's laughter bounces off the wooden walls at the reminder. That was hilarious watching Griselda secure Angus' hands around the plow and forcing him to plow until the sunset that day, the threat of a whip reminding him of a mother's wrath. Even Tavish had sat on the fence to jeer at his son's foolishness and Angus always made sure his remarks were never uttered in the older woman's hearing distance again.

"I'm not really mad at Angelina," Bog comments. "It's not like she really understood in the first place but I could never forgive Roland for his actions. He knew going in that ye couldn't love him with yer whole heart and he was the one who pretended to be something he wasn't. He should have just bowed out after that meeting instead of persisting and degrading ye and he definitely shouldn't have tried using a love potion on ye. How did he even manage to get it? I never fully understood that."

"The Sugar Plum Fairy is the only one who can make it and from the winter solstice to the vernal equinox, she lives in field kingdom...somewhere. You don't know about her because I never really paid attention whenever she was involved," Halfling mutters, elbowing his side at his chuckling. "That wisecrack that you're planning on making about the multitude of things I never paid attention to is not appreciated."

Bog holds both his hands up, trying his best to look innocent and failing. They really did know each other even if they weren't privy to the other's thoughts.

"Anyway, he must have somehow gotten that potion from her. I still don't completely know how I ended up looking like this but I'm glad that I took off as soon as he threw that dust in my face," Halfling mentions. "I'm not sure why it didn't work but I guess I could find Sugar Plum and get answers after we figure all of this out."

"I'm glad that it didn't spell ye to love him," Bog sighs. "It was almost like I could fell yer pain, fear, panic, and confusion all day and when I fell asleep the picture wasn't really clear as always. That day was almost a nightmare in my dreams. I was worried for ye when ye flew blinded toward the darkness and falling asleep exhausted in a tree hollow. I was useless the whole next day, waiting to fall asleep to know what happened to ye. I don't care what ye look like but even now ye're beautiful, exotic even."

"Bog," Halfling starts, leaning closer.

"An army approaches!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Bog growls as he paces in front of the barred door, glaring darkly at the guarding Brutus with each pass and twirling the pendant restlessly. It happened so fast and was over even faster. The sentry had given the warning and everyone was on the alert as the fighters prepared for battle and the non-fighters fled to the burrows. They stood at the castle's entrance when Halfling realized why they weren't warned before the army got that close. Barked orders to retrieve the captured scouts were given before she flew off to confront the intruders with the other winged forest fae.

Bog had fought through the line, knocking plenty of field folk off their squirrel mounts and standing guard as the battered scouts were carried back to the castle. Halfling's scream tore his heart as the cruel smile of Sir Roland flashed in the waning light. Bog charged but Brutus' strong arms carried him back behind the castle gates as the large goblin heeded Halfling's screamed orders. The progress to retreat into the burrows was hampered by Bog's determination but soon every forest folk was secured behind those blasted doors except Halfling.

Bog bares his crooked teeth at said doors. The noise suggesting the invaders' determination against the castle's new addition. It was no wonder that they wanted in with what the scouts had managed to hear before they were caught. The welcoming committee that they had beat sore earlier had reported of Halfling's return and the army was under orders to apprehend her for being an anarchist. Apparently, the field king had postponed the wedding for fear of trouble until Halfling's capture since he was convinced of her involvement in his eldest's disappearance. The cherry on top, however, was the scouts had also overheard Sir Roland ordering the army to attack the forest folk without mercy. With determination, Bog prowls through the tunnel to the main room of the burrow and takes in all the huddled occupants.

"Are ye going to cower forever?" Bog growls, his voice echoing in the caverns. "When are ye going to protect yerselves? Are ye part of the great forest kingdom or are ye slaves of the field kingdom, forever cowering under their boots? Yer kingdom laws may require a ruler to be present to ensure the denizen's safety but the field king is not yer king! He has violated his oath to the forest king, he has violated the forest kingdom's laws, and he is responsible for every forest folk's death since the forest king's absence! Halfling fulfilled an oath that she did not take and she restored yer obedience to the forest kingdom's laws, are ye going to reward her allegiance to the forest king by letting her die for ye?"

The castle fills with snarls and growls as the burrows cannot restrain the noise. The field folk that stayed behind look at each other uneasily. The field fairies try to take flight as the doors slam open but the forest fairies cut off their escape and throw them into the waiting dungeons. Bog runs up the stairs, his fury reflecting any goblin's rage as he bashes his opponents with the pendant, each downed victim being dragged with the others. Noticing one field folk in particular once the furious horde reaches the courtyard, Bog stops a gremlin from attacking him and grabs the front of the elf's shirt.

"What are they going to do with Halfling?" Bog harshly questions.

"I don't know exactly," the elf stammers before rushing at Bog's growl. "But I do know they're going to hold the wedding once Halfling is caught to ensure the kingdoms' unification!"

Bog drops the little elf and slams the pendant's pointed base into the ground to draw everyone's attention. The beaten army cowers under his harsh glare before he motions for them to be removed, stopping Fang from removing the elf.

"Are ye going to let yer true love be married to another when ye can prevent it, Sunny?" Bog asks.

"I don't have a choice...Wait! How do you know my name?" Sunny questions in shock.

"How I know yer name isn't important but what is important is if ye're really going to let this happen without a fight," Bog answers. "Ye can join the rest of yer people in the dungeons or ye can go rescue Dawn from the cruel clutches of a forced marriage!"

Sunny stares up at the imposing man before slowly standing and looking around at the forest folk. The decision isn't really a hard one. Returning his attention to Bog, Sunny blinks and rubs his eyes before looking again. He could have sworn something was different a second ago.

"For Dawn," Sunny mutters, nodding to the human.

Bog looks around the courtyard at the waiting forest folk and can feel the thrum of battle still coursing through his veins. He knows their laws and knows they won't move without a leader, even though the same battle-thirst courses through them. Noticing the elders, he draws himself to full stature and grins savagely as they nod their approval.

"Who wants to go to a party tonight?" Bog yells.

The answering yells shake the walls and spur the creatures into action. Some head toward the armory, some wake up and prepare the forest kingdom's squirrel mounts, while others gather up the field kingdom's squirrel mounts. At Sunny's shivering, Bog touches the smaller man's shoulder.

"I'm not cut out for battle," Sunny admits lowly. "I might be able to fight but I'm no fighter. They sent me here to die. They might not have said it but I'm not stupid. No one places an untrained fighter in battle unless they want them to die."

"I'm not asking ye to fight," Bog reassures. "I'm not even asking ye to renounce yer loyalty to yer king."

"Dawn knows what is going on," Sunny mentions. "She sent word to me before the army marched that she was taking a sleeping-draught so that she could be with me."

"That is not good," Babba grumbles.

"No, it's good," Bog corrects, grabbing Sunny's face to look at him. "Pay attention! Dawn, I need ye to stall the wedding but don't stop it. Play the pretend game and act as if ye're excited about the whole ordeal, lie if ye have to. As soon as we arrive at the palace, we'll head toward the great hall and we'll need everyone grouped together. We don't want to shed blood but we will if we have to and ye can lessen that chance."

"If we leave soon, we will make it to the field palace near sunrise," Sunny points out. "I got it! If the wedding is at dawn then everybody will be gathering by the time we get there and the guards might not notice us in the confusion. I'll help you make it look like we're the returning army but...Do you promise not to hurt anybody?"

"Those who fight back take their own risk but those who don't fight back will not be harmed," Bog swears. "Yer army came here with bloodshed in mind but not one of them has been damaged beyond repair. We have been trespassed and invaded but we are not anarchists. Saving Halfling and reminding the field king of his duties is all we are doing. Once those have been accomplished then we'll return to the forest kingdom."

"There is a problem with your plan, human," Babba mutters.

"What?" Bog asks, letting go of Sunny.

"The portal to the human realm will close at sunrise and will not open again until the vernal equinox, thirteen weeks away. You won't be able to lead the army and still make it home," Babba reminds. "You'll be trapped here forever or die if you return to the human realm."

Bog grips the pendant as he registers his choices and feeling the dozens of eyes upon him, he looks up into the gazes of the stunned forest folk. Babba's voice had carried over the atmosphere and it was as if everything had paused, waiting for his decision. Looking back to the older troll, Bog almost chuckles at the worry hidden behind the stony indifference.

"All those coming, mount up! Everyone staying, bar the castle doors once we leave and let no one in until we return!" Bog finally remarks, heading toward a saddled squirrel.

"You're him, aren't you?" Sunny asks, his voice causing Bog to stop. "It's the only way you know about me and Dawn, as well as the pretend game. You're Marianne's soul-bond! Where is she? What happened to her?"

"I can't tell ye," Bog mumbles. "Puck told me and Halfling that our answers were here but they're not. I could tell ye that your answers are at the field palace but they might not be. The Marianne ye knew isn't the same one ye might meet again."

"Is she...is she dead?" Stuff questions, the crowd paused again.

"No, I can still feel her," Bog reassures. "But if we don't end the field kingdom's oppression this day then she will die because her love for both kingdoms will kill her. I won't let that happen. Who's with me?"

The surge of revived energy thrums in the air as the large army marches through the moonlit forest. With one last look, Babba orders the gates to be closed and jumps as she turns around. Puck laughs as the elder grabs her chest and pants.

"Puck!" Babba yells. "Where have you been and where is the king?"

Puck chatters before running out through the closing gate, racing with ease over the snow. Babba stares in confusion before shaking her head and ordering everyone below.

"What did Puck say?" Jamma asks.

"Nonsense as usual," Babba mutters. "We did good and the king is where he should be."

* * *

"This is your last chance, Bog," Stuff comments. "The border is just up ahead. If you go under the root-arch you'll go straight home with no problem."

"I'm not leaving, so all of ye can stop trying to convince me otherwise," Bog remarks. "I can't leave ye to deal with this alone. Da raised me better than that and I'm not starting my first day as an adult thinking only of myself. The field king or his counselors will try to stop ye by using yer own laws to guilt ye into obeying, just like they've done all these years."

"Good thing your dad knew all the old ways and taught them to you," Sunny mentions. "Marianne always told us stories when we were children but then she stopped."

"Nurse Aida overheard her and told the field king, who then lectured Marianne for filling yer heads with useless and outdated information," Bog mutters. "That's why she always questioned the forest elders whenever she could because her teachers stopped teaching the old ways and she wanted to know if everything Da said was true. She was more than disappointed when she realized that even the forest kingdom wasn't teaching the old ways. She lectured her field pixie handmaidens for three hours about the stupidity of it all."

Everyone laughs at the picture, most having met the feisty princess or at least seen her spitfire nature from a distance. Rounding the last bend in the path, Bog stares in concern as the forest folk wail in anguish upon seeing the border. Looking around reveals nothing changed from the time he entered this realm but the army was clearly distressed by something.

"What's wrong?" Bog asks.

"The Loch King is dead!" Thang cries.

"Loch King?" Bog repeats in shock.

"It's the previous forest king," Sunny mumbles. "The scouts had reported that he had returned at the same time Halfling did and our original orders were to request his assistance but when we saw the border we knew it couldn't have been him they had seen. That is when Sir Roland ordered us to attack instead."

"How does the border mean that...the forest king is dead?" Bog questions, trying to stop the whirly-gig in his head.

Sunny points to the blooming primroses, the vibrant mushrooms, and the green hawthorn branches lining the snowy border. The moonlight seems pale compared to the shimmering lights rising from the ground.

"Even in the fae realm it isn't natural for plants and mushrooms to do that in the winter and that light is Loch King's magic returning to the forest," Sunny explains. "It has to be him with how much power is coming from it."

"It's the oldest tradition for both kingdoms," Stuff sniffles. "Whenever a member of the royal family dies, their ashes are spread at the border to return them to the land before the sun rises the next day. He must have died sometime today."

"There's no hope now," Fang mumbles.

"Yes, there is!" Bog yells, spurring his squirrel to the front. "Nothing has changed! Ye've been fighting for yer freedom for several months and ye fought down the intruders at the castle, all without the forest king! Nothing has changed! We are still taking back the forest kingdom from being the slaves of the field kingdom and we are still going to save Halfling!"

"But the king," Brutus starts.

"Died yesterday," Bog states. "The border was like that when I crossed over. Are ye going to make him proud to return to the forest or cause him sorrow?"

Slowly the saddened forest fae wipe their tears and ready themselves for battle. They would not disappoint their king. Bog nods and turns his mount to head across the border, making sure to avoid the portal. The shimmering lights spook the animal but Bog coaxes it to cross it.

"My little prince is all grown up," Loch chuckles fondly.

"Da!" Bog gasps.

Bog runs to his father and sobs into the strong familiar arms, paying no mind to the dreamlike atmosphere. Loch returns the affection with equal fervor before pulling back, knowing that the time is short.

"Bog, my son," Loch murmurs. "I need ye to listen. It's the last lesson for me to give ye and the most important. Ye've already decided to sacrifice yer life in the human realm for the sake of the ones here but it's not enough. Ye must choose for yerself. Whose son are ye?"

"Da," Bog starts, blinking at his father's different look before he disappears.

The squirrel protests Bog's tight grip on its fur and stops its trek. Bog unclenches his fist and pats the abused animal's skin before wiping his tears away. Odd chattering causes Bog to look behind him. Puck waves from the back of the squirrel's saddle.

"Ye knew, didn't ye?" Bog asks.

Puck nods and stands up to pat Bog's cheek before pointing towards the pendant across his lap. Resting inside the usually empty space of the ornate head is a grey stone with vines wrapped around it to secure it to the pendant. Bog looks back toward the approaching army and blinks again at the absence of the lights. Puck chatters to get his attention and points into the field kingdom. The imp jumps off the squirrel and runs off toward the large boulder that was the field palace, pausing for a second to chatter at Bog again before scurrying off.

"Whose son am I?" Bog mutters. "That's the easiest lesson Da ever gave me."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Good job, Sunny," Bog whispers.

"Don't thank me. I have no idea how the guards didn't see us," Sunny mutters.

Bog looks toward the pendant again. He had noticed that the lighter the sky had gotten with the pre-dawn light the grey stone lightened as well, now looking a cloudy pale yellow and it had shimmered as he was concentrating on not being noticed by the flying field guards. Deciding to figure it out later, Bog leads the army closer to the palace's servant entrance and sends Sunny in first to do as instructed. They charge in after Sunny shuts the kitchen door and easily subdues the frightened occupants.

"No harm will come to ye or anyone else that doesn't fight us," Bog reassures. "We mean only to stop an injustice from being done further."

"How can we trust you anarchists?" the brownie chef growls.

"Because we're not anarchists, Joshua," Bog states, smirking at the shocked creature. "Less than ye were when ye gave sweets to the princesses when they were supposed to be in bed."

"How...how do you know that?" Joshua stammers.

"He's Princess Marianne's true soul-bond!" Sunny insists. "Princess Marianne would never allow what is happening and you all know it!"

The kitchen staff looks at each other before nodding their compliance. Grumbling about the wasted food, Joshua shuffles the others into the pantry and allows themselves to be locked-in. Sunny exits the kitchen first and gives the all clear.

"Stuff, ye know the palace better than anyone. Take Thang, Jazz, and Gobber and find Halfling," Bog orders, getting agreement from them. "Meet us in the great hall."

Watching as the two goblins and the two forest fairies head down the corridor, Bog turns and leads the army down the other way. Each guard or unsuspecting guest gets subdued and confined in quick order as they approach the great hall. The music creates the perfect distraction as Bog divides the forest folk to cover each entrance and follows Sunny to the back entrance. On cue, the doors slam open once the music ends and the army charges in. Through the chaos, Bog and Sunny make their way to the stage where the royal family huddles behind the guards.

"How dare you intrude, you vile creatures?" Roland yells, drawing his sword.

"How dare ye think to murder the innocent?" Bog spits, slamming the oaf back with the pendant.

Sunny ignores the fight and heads toward the king but the king's dark glare stops his progress. Dawn squirms in her father's tight hold, barely resisting the temptation to slam her foot down on his.

"Sunny, why are you betraying us?" the field king growls.

"I'm not, King Dagda!" Sunny insists. "They just want Halfling back and to talk to you. They swore no harm would come to anyone who didn't fight back and would go back to the forest kingdom once they finished."

"They're anarchists. As if they would keep their word and you're a fool to believe them," King Dagda remarks. "Guards, seize him for treason!"

Bog punches Roland into the approaching guards and turns his attention to the shocked king. King Dagda loosens his hold to rub his eyes before looking at the man again. He could have sworn something was different a second ago. Dawn manages to wiggle out of his embrace during his confusion and runs to the happy Sunny, eagerly hugging him before flying them both on the other side of Bog.

"Daddy, you need to listen to Boggy!" Dawn orders.

"Bog!" Bog growls, lightly glaring at the giggling blonde. "Ye're as bad as Aunt Plum. I can't believe Marianne told ye about that terrible nickname."

"Oh believe it. She also told us that you wore a skirt," Dawn giggles.

"A kilt is not a skirt," Bog insists, fully glaring the laughing duo.

"I don't care who you are or what you wear but you have no right to barge in here," Roland comments. "If the forest creatures wanted peace then they would have obeyed the laws. Begone back to your world, human, before you get the same punishment those lawbreakers get when the army returns."

"The army is locked in the forest castle's dungeon," Sunny mutters before pointing toward the room. "And you're the only soldier left."

Roland loses some of his bravado as he looks upon the subdued field fae. Several smaller forest fae grin from their place sitting on top of some field guards while others keep the non-fighting field folk together. Looking back to the grinning Bog, Roland growls before charging and brings his sword to take the taller man's head off. Dawn shrieks as the fighting pair trade blows, each more savage than the last.

"Rip his wings off!" Stuff yells, coming in the main entrance.

Bog ignores the helpful suggestions being sounded off and curses as Roland takes flight. Snarling with determination, Bog jumps and slams the pendant against the shocked meadow fairy, sending him to the ground. He pays no attention at the oddity of him jumping such a distance or of the smooth descent back toward the ground, instead focusing all his attention on disarming his opponent. With a quick move, the sword goes flying and Bog presses his foot onto Roland's chest to keep him on the ground with the added threat of the pendant's deceptively sharp head against the fae's throat.

"Now ye will listen, King of the Field!" Bog yells to the bewildered monarch. "Ye have violated yer oath to the King of the Forest and have declared war unto him! Ye have robbed, ye have enslaved, and ye have murdered the forest folk! Marianne warned ye of yer actions and its consequences but instead of heeding her, ye sentenced her to die!"

In astonishment, the field fae stops cowering to turn their attention to the stage. Even the field guards stop their struggling at such an accusation and look to their king for his reply. The forest fae pay no mind to them but looks on in concern as Jazz and Gobber assist the battered Halfling toward the spectacle.

"I did no such thing!" King Dagda denies. "I have done what I was supposed to do concerning the forest folk. Marianne was too young to understand the responsibilities concerning the crown and let her youth overrule the correct order of things. I loved my daughter and would never harm her but that creature took advantage of her naivety. Sir Roland saw Marianne's last hours at the hand of Halfling."

"He saw, did he?" Bog questions, mockery dripping in his voice.

"You humans would not know of such things but my daughter was connected to Sir Roland in a unique way that allowed them to see each other's lives each day. You've been lied to, human," King Dagda insists.

"No, ye've been lied to," Bog remarks, pressing harder against the shiny armor under his boots. "Did he also see Queen Theresa dying in yer arms when Marianne was four? Ye didn't know that she didn't go to bed that night but she hid in the wardrobe and it was her crying that made ye realize what she had seen. Did he see the moonlight walks ye and Marianne took that day every year? Neither of ye could sleep that first year and then it became a tradition. Did he also see and overhear yer counselors using yer youth and yer grief to take control of the kingdom? Ye really should get the draft tunnel plugged when ye have council meetings, little feisty princesses know how to crawl in them. Or maybe, he told ye about the day of the last vernal equinox when he confronted her about marrying him, telling her that she had no choice in the matter, that either she would do so willingly or be forced to do so when the meadow kingdom invaded. How about when he tried to dust her with a love potion and then lost her when she flew off blinded? Did he also see her passing out exhausted in a hollow tree and then waking up the next day disorientated and scared?"

With each word, the field king's face changes from its unyielding expression to shock and then to anger as he turns his gaze onto the struggling fae trying to get free. Roland freezes at the hostile atmosphere directed toward him.

"Don't let him deceive you, Your Majesty!" Roland manages. "Surely the forest creatures told him all this, as well as that treacherous elf! He's just trying to save his own skin!"

"Is that so? Well, then how would I also know that the reason ye confronted her that day was because she had just discovered that counselors James, Wesley, Amber, and Gwen are not true citizens of the field kingdom but are actually from the meadow kingdom," Bog points out. "That's not hard to believe since they were the ones who suggested this alliance in the first place and are the only ones still around who witnessed the oath of the field king to the forest king. I mean, it is a large coincidence that all the other counselors of both the field and the forest died off by the second year."

Bog motions the forest fae to let go of their own prisoners, who in turn take prisoners of the aforementioned counselors at Bog's command. The beaten guards also take control of Roland and drag him to his accomplices, using the offered ropes from the forest folk to bind each one of them. King Dagda opens his mouth to protest but silences in shock at another glance toward Bog as he heads toward Halfling.

"Are ye alright?" Bog softly questions.

"Head, shoulder, wings all good," Halfling murmurs, her bloody lip ruining her weak smile before she squints at him. "Oh man, they must have beaten me harder than I thought."

"What do ye mean?" Bog asks, running his hands gently over her.

"What she means is that your glamour keeps shifting on and off," a voice giggles out. "Not surprising really since she magicked your coat and upset the delicate balance but with Loch unable to fix it, it'll just keep deteriorating until it vanishes."

"Aunt...Plum?" Bog stammers.

"Hello, Boggy!" the blue shimmering field sprite waves from on top of the high windowsill with Puck laughing beside her. "I told you I would explain your clan heritage but I find that something visual is so much better than just hearing it. Also, happy eighteenth birthday!"

Bog looks around as the first rays of the sunrise shine through the window and illuminates the great hall. Looking over the collection of fae creatures still gathered and then at the dull amber gleaming in the pendant, he nods before turning his attention to the king.

"Now, we return to yer transgressions," Bog growls. "This was the oath ye swore. I, King of the Field, do swear to ye, King of the Forest, to treat yer subjects as ye would until yer return, on crown and kingdom do I pledge. The oath was only to protect them and care for them since the law demanded that a ruler oversee but it was never to rule over them. The forest counselors were left to govern the forest kingdom, a job they did well until ye and yer counselors' interference. Do ye still deny that ye failed to uphold yer oath, an oath ye sworn on crown and kingdom?"

"Don't try to deny it, Dagda," Plum warns. "You were told to report any trouble to me or Puck and we would report it to Loch. For seventeen years you lied to both of us about the state of the forest kingdom, claiming hard winters and poor crops as the cause of death for so many. You swore to us that you were helping the survivors. Had Loch known, he would have returned years ago like he planned and ignored the consequences of such an action. Had I known, I would have never given a love potion to a poor love-stricken fairy who came to me for help."

King Dagda looks to his daughter and subjects, their eyes now reflecting their own distrust in him. Slowly, his hands remove the crown upon his brow. Marianne had warned him of the dangers of the oath and he knew she was right. By crown and kingdom he swore and at his failure, crown and kingdom he forfeited.

"The Loch King is dead, the border proves it," Wesley remarks over the silence. "Therefore the forest kingdom belongs to the field kingdom now. This whole demonstration is practically useless, so unless you release us and continue this marriage, the meadow kingdom will take control through force by spring since neither kingdom has a ruler."

"What makes you think that, usurper?" Plum purrs.

"Come on, both of these archaic kingdoms have the laws so that no child can take the throne," Gwen scoffs. "If Princess Marianne is still alive she won't be eighteen until after the spring thaw, long after the meadow kingdom's invasion, and poor sweet Princess Dawn is only fifteen. Even if she married the elf, she still wouldn't be able to be queen since he's sixteen."

"You misunderstand these archaic laws, fool!" Plum laughs, floating down and grabbing the field king's crown. "Roland wouldn't be king even if he married Marianne or Dawn because they are no longer a princess. In fact, Dawn wasn't even really born one. When trying to take over a kingdom, at least try to know its laws because you overdid it, just a little. He swore on crown and kingdom and when he didn't keep his oath as you persuaded him to, he forfeited crown and kingdom. Meaning, the field kingdom and its de-throned royal family is a subject to the forest kingdom and its royal family forever. You have to deal with the new ruler of the forest kingdom."

"What? Halfling?" Amber sputters. "Even if the rumors are true about her being Loch King's daughter, she admitted that she is only seventeen and that means that she is too young to take the throne!"

"Halfling isn't the daughter of Loch, although she is going to be his daughter-in-law," Plum giggles. "Tell me, Boggy, have you decided who you are?"

"I am the Bog King!" Bog yells, slamming the pendant's base to the ground.

Everyone closes their eyes against the immense light flooding the room from the bright amber stone and several hit the ground from the power rushing through the kingdoms. Tentatively, eyes open and immediately widen at the figure standing before them. Gone is the human clad in a heavy coat and pants, instead, standing tall and proud is a forest fae with the ash-brown carapace armor of a forest sprite. Translucent wings of a forest fairy catch the dawn light and send rainbows over the stunned crowd as goblin-like claws grip the golden staff.

"Bog?" Halfling questions.

"Aye, it's me," Bog grins, showing off his goblin teeth. "Da wasn't kidding when he said a few weeks ago that what he was going to tell me about his clan was life-changing. He said I had to choose whose son I am and which clan I fall under. I choose being the son of Loch King."

"Your mother and I knew you would!" Plum cheers, sitting on Bog's armored pauldron. "But Loch, he was such a worrier, saying that it was only fair to make you decide when you became an adult. Then he gets killed by a tree of all things as he was getting ready to come back here. I can't really figure that one out. Oh well. All hail the King of the Forest and Fields!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Forgive me but I'm not inclined to trust ye," Bog mumbles, leaning his head on his left fist. "Ye've proven yerself extremely susceptible to persuasion and I don't feel like cleaning up a bigger mess that ye could probably manage to make in a few weeks."

Dagda barely holds his temper at the slight but the sight of Bog twirling the field crown around his finger reminds him of the new reality. With a deep sigh, he takes his new seat several chairs down from the young monarch. At least Bog has allowed him to retain his nobility, even if it is a rather low rank.

Bog yawns then blinks as his new toy slips off his finger to fly across the dining room. Bracing himself for the resulting crash, he breathes a sigh of relief as Halfling grabs it before it crashes into the wall. Her unamused look makes him chuckle and shrug his shoulders as she walks toward him. Another yawn breaks through his defenses.

"Tired?" Halfling asks, setting the golden circlet on the table.

"Aye," Bog mutters. "How are ye feeling now?"

"Better. The healers fixed everything they could and the rest will have to wait for time," Halfling replies, taking the seat at his right at his motion. "Everyone seems to be taking the new order of things quite well. Far better then I expected. When are we returning to the forest castle?"

"We will be returning after breakfast," Bog starts. "Ye're staying here, though."

"What?" Halfling yells, startling everyone in the room.

"Ye are staying here," Bog repeats, staring the enraged woman down. "Ye know what Da said about the meadow kingdom and we need to be prepared for them, so I need ye to stay here. Ye're the only one who can help me put everything back in order before the spring thaw."

Halfling gives a growling groan before leaning against her seat and folding her arms. Stuff grimaces at the sour fae before giving her own sigh.

"If you don't mind, Sire, then I'll stay behind with Halfling to give her a hand," Stuff offers. "It's going to take a lot of work to get the field army ready to fight, as well evidenced from the past day, and I helped with the training regimen for the forest army."

"We'll only need a few of ye," Bog responds as several forest fae echo Stuff's desire. "Under the circumstances, I want the field army's old captains and instructors to come out of retirement to assist, temporarily if they so choose."

"You mean that, Your Majesty?" a field fairy guard asks, his brown eyes sparkling with delight.

"Aye," Bog responds. "Go ahead and tell yer father, Captian Tigler, that he can have his job back if he wants it. I'm sure he could probably beat ye back before I leave if ye left now."

Bog chuckles as the red-haired youth runs out of the room, taking flight just in time to avoid the servants carrying in the food. Joshua proudly sets the food in front of the new monarch and waits patiently beside the chair. Halfling's quiet snickers at Bog's groan does little to ease his embarrassment as he remembers that particular custom. With a sigh, Bog stands to address his new subjects.

"On this new day of winter, I greet ye all with blessings of the royal house," Bog recites. "Yer king and queen wish ye warmth, food, and comfort this season. Blessings be!"

Grabbing the soup bowl and raising it toward the crowd, Bog lifts it to his lips to sip the broth before nodding to the waiting chef. The crowd cheers at the approval and take their own bowls to raise toward the king before sipping the soup. Joshua beams at Bog before retreating back into the kitchen, glad that his worries that the new king wouldn't hold to tradition were unneeded and that he didn't ruin the season broth with the chaos.

"You do realize you're going to have to repeat that at the forest castle, right?" Halfling questions with a grin.

Bog groans as he lets himself fall back onto his chair, reaching his foot out to kick at Halfling's foot when she continues laughing. Getting to his breakfast, Bog nearly misses the questioning look on several faces and he motions for them to speak.

"Forgive us, Your Majesty, but you mentioned a queen in your blessing," the aged brownie Tayla remarks.

"Aye, I did because there is one," Bog comments, picking up the field crown and tossing it into Halfling's startled hands. "Ye know I'm not one for crowns, so ye wear that one to let them know of yer rank, my queen."

"But what about Marianne?" Dawn cries. "You're her soul-bond! Unless she's...she isn't, is she?"

"Calm down, Dawn. She is fine," Bog reassures, turning to Halfling. "Did ye manage to talk to Aunt Plum before she left for the forest castle?"

"Yeah but the answer was as helpful as Puck's answers usually are," Halfling mutters. "She said that you can turn me back to normal."

"What? How? I just found out that I'm half-fae just this morning!" Bog remarks. "I don't know how to do any magic!"

"It's that or wait until my eighteenth birthday in the spring when I'm in full control of my own magic. Don't worry, I don't mind staying like this for a few more months if need be," Halfling reassures. "I've actually gotten rather fond of this look anyway and it compliments your true form."

"Does she know how a love potion even did that to ye?" Bog asks.

"Yep and she said you explained it well enough when you said that it was my love for both kingdoms that cursed me," Halfling answers, ignoring as several faces reflect their understanding. "Turns out that Roland didn't request the potion himself or she would have warned him that the potion can't work on soul-bonds. Normally it would have just bounced off to have no effect but because I was worried about what to do to protect both kingdoms from the meadow kingdom's plans and, as Babba had speculated about, the pull from the soul-bond with both of us resigning to true-loveless relationships caused the potion to work differently. My anger toward the meadow kingdom threat seemed to somehow work with our soul-bond to pull onto your magic and the magic did what it thought was the best way to protect me."

"Meaning that I'm responsible for turning ye into a half-forest fae? I'm not sure how I feel about that," Bog mutters. "Then how did Puck using a love potion on the both of us went so weird?"

"Plum said that is always what happens whenever he touches one of her potions, it never works the way it's supposed to," Halfling answers, fiddling with the golden circlet.

Bog softly grins as he exits his seat once more to stand next to Halfling, taking the field crown back and gently settling it on her leafy brow. He kneels on one knee beside her and brings her clawed hands to his lips as blue-eyes stare into sparkling amber-eyes.

"I know ye," Bog whispers.

"I know you," Halfling responds softly, resting her cheek against his.

"Are ye still mad at me for wanting ye to stay here this winter?" Bog questions.

"I'm not mad at you," Halfling sighs. "But I am upset that even with us being in the same realm, we still can't be together."

"Well, at least now that I know that this is all real, we can use our dreams to communicate through the distance and it might not be so bad," Bog mentions, taking his seat once more. "We just need to remind the meadow kingdom why it's a good idea to stay peaceable and once that's done then we can figure everything else out. Meanwhile, I want ye to stabilize the field kingdom, I mean, the field. Ye already had everything planned for yer eighteenth birthday on the changes ye were going to make once ye declared the ascension law but as my declared queen, ye can implement the changes now. I'll fully support what ye want to do, Queen Marianne."

Halfling flutters her forest fairy wings in excitement as she realizes exactly why Bog wanted her to stay behind. Oh, the fun she was going to have at rearranging everything. Starting with the snooty Manford now looking at her in shock. Halfling's grin shows off her sharp teeth as she looks toward the stunned diners and it widens at several field faes' uneasy looks.

"Surprise!" Halfling comments. "You've been accusing me of killing myself for the past several months and yet you're the ones that voiced your desire for me to be executed last night. Good thing Dawn protested having an execution on her wedding day, wouldn't you agree?"

* * *

Bog's new wings give a shiver as he looks toward the gathering forest fae and at the snow falling lightly down into the field palace courtyard. With a sigh, Bog readies himself for the long journey back to the forest castle and resigns himself to the cold trek, at least this form seems to be better cold resistant. Dagda looks toward the young halfling with pity as forest fairy wings shiver again.

"Bog, Your Majesty, take my cloak," Dagda offers, unbuckling the chain fastener. "It'll keep you dry and warm during your travel."

Bog nods his gratitude as he accepts the woven fabric and tries to settle it around his shoulders, being mindful of the additions. Halfling giggles as he struggles slightly before grinning at his glare and giving him a hand.

"Don't worry, it won't take you long to get used to it," Halfling reassures, smoothing the cloak against his carapace.

"It might take a while to get used to everything. A lot has changed, after all," Bog chuckles.

Halfling looks in concern as Bog's laughter abruptly ceases and his expression falls. Blue-eyes shimmer before tears spill over into the cold weather. Bog leans his forehead against Halfling's and he clutches her to him as his heart aches at the reminder. He doesn't notice as Dawn slips something into Halfling's hand but he starts a bit at the feel of cloth against his face before leaning into Halfling's gentle touch as she wipes the tears away. Her own watery smile echoes his as kisses replace the cloth on his cheeks.

"I can't believe I actually forgot," Bog murmurs. "Everything has happened so fast and I was thinking that I couldn't wait to tell Da and Ma about it all but they're gone. They're gone and they're not coming back! Oh, Marianne!"

"I'm not going to say that everything is going to be okay because it isn't, not concerning them anyway," Halfling comments, combing back his leaf-like hair. "I'm not going to tell you that it gets better because that isn't really true either because I still miss Mom. But I will tell you that they're not gone, not really. You returned them to the land."

"We are from the land and to the land we return," Bog mutters, leaning back to look at the gleaming amber stone. "I saw Da for a few moments when I crossed over the border. It was like he was still alive."

"We never really die," Dagda states softly. "We just return to the land and as long as the land stays alive then so do we. Loch reminded me of that when my own parents had passed."

Bog and Halfling turn to the older fae with questioning looks. Dagda smiles softly at them before turning his attention to the far-off border.

"Loch is a few years older, closer to Oberon's age than mine but he was a good friend when our responsibilities didn't cage us in. When we were younger, we used to play with my elder brother near the border while our parents talked to one another. I was there when he was crowned king at his mother's death and he was here when I was crowned king after Oberon's sudden death. He gave his blessing when Theresa and I were wed and I gave mine when he announced that he found his true love," Dagda reminisces before sighing. "No matter what you two think of me and what I think of myself, I tried to do my best to fulfill my oath to my friend. I know I failed, I've known it for several years now but I didn't know how to fix what I've done and I just became..."

"Tired?" Bog offers as Dagda trails off.

"It's no excuse, I know," Dagda amends. "Maybe somewhere in me, I wanted Loch to come back and take the kingdom. I don't know. I never had any desires of running the kingdom. That was Oberon's birthright and I didn't begrudge him one bit. Then he died, then Loch left, and then Theresa died. It became too easy to take bad advice from others. I'll take the punishment you've given me because I know I deserve it and more."

"I didn't lower yer rank to punish ye but to help ye," Bog explains. "Da would never have trusted ye if he thought ye weren't a good man. But ye've allowed others to dictate yer own heart and mind. Ye need to rest and find yerself again, find that man yer friend trusted."

Bog nods to the stunned man before turning his attention back to the girl still in his arms. Smiling gently, he leans down to finally kiss his true love and her eager response makes him flutter his covered wings. He can almost hear her racing heartbeat as it matches his. Noticing the bright light through his closed eyes, Bog pulls back and blinks in shock.

"Ye've got to be kidding me!" Bog mutters.

Marianne laughs as she flutters her field fairy wings, the purple and pink tones sparkling as she lifts herself to twirl around.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Bog mumbles incoherently as he shifts in the bed before reluctantly waking and sitting up. For a minute he stares around the unfamiliar room with unease before his groggy mind remembers the events of the past few days. Bog looks down at the clawed hand clutching the fur blankets but startles at a knocking.

"Are you awake, Sire?" Thang calls. "Sugar Plum asked me to check on you and to tell you that it's time to eat!"

"Aye, I'm awake," Bog answers, leaving the moss bed.

The little goblin tentatively opens the door and grins up at the halfling king when no rebuke is given. Bog returns the smile as he grabs the pendant, twirling it slightly before following Thang through the hallway. The respectful nods and bows as they enter the dining hall make Bog blush a little but he swallows down his nervousness and takes his rightful seat. The gremlin chef fidgets a little after he places the season broth in front of the monarch.

"Forgive me, Sire," Nex whispers. "I've not made season broth before, so I'm not sure how well it'll taste."

Bog smiles reassuringly before standing to address the waiting forest fae. The eager faces remind him that most have never celebrated the season's first day before, survival taking preeminence over custom, and their joy quells his worries.

"Though this new day of winter is nearly done, I greet ye all with blessings of the royal house," Bog recites, this time with joy. "Yer king and queen wish ye warmth, food, and comfort this season. May this be the start of our prosperous kingdom. Blessings be!"

Grabbing the soup bowl and raising it toward the crowd, Bog lifts it to his lips to sip the broth. The waiting chef watches with trepidation as the warm liquid is swallowed and breathes a sigh of relief as Bog nods to him. The crowd cheers at the approval and take their own bowls to raise toward the king before sipping the soup.

"You're stepping into your duties quite well," Plum praises as Bog sits down.

"Thanks. Learning royal protocol from Marianne's point of view helped but Da taught me a lot," Bog remarks. "He said that it was my duty to learn his clan's ways even if I chose not to follow them. Aunt Plum, why didn't Da ever tell me that I'm a halfling?"

"Because you are a human halfling and the first royal human halfling at that," Plum comments. "Humans, in general, become enamored with the fae realm, even more so with halflings and Loch felt that it would be wrong to let you know everything too soon. So, he made sure you learned everything you needed as the royal heir by disguising the lessons as stories and using vague references to prepare you but at the same time, he made sure you learned everything you needed as a human. He wanted you to choose with a fair mindset with nothing persuading you but your own heart."

Bog opens his mouth for another question but the field sprite points to his food with a stern look. He chuckles at her mothering before heeding her demand and eating his dinner. King or not, Plum is still his aunt and had no qualms bossing him around. For his own good, she insisted once the army returned to the forest castle and Plum had shuffled him into the royal bedchambers. Even Babba had quaked under the sprite's glare when the forest fae was curious about their new king.

"What about the farm and the McIntoshs?" Bog asks after a few minutes.

"Don't worry, dear. Everything was already planned," Plum replies, giving the young king another pointed look towards his food. "When I visited last spring equinox, your parents and I had a long talk while you and Angus were plowing. Your mother was quite certain that you would choose your fae heritage and insisted that they get everything prepared then. The only difference to the original plan is rather obvious, so I merely told the McIntoshs that I was taking you with me and asked them to look after the farm until we returned in the spring. Humans are easily susceptible to magic and a few tricks convinced them that it was you saying your goodbyes when we left the farm by mid-afternoon."

"Return in the spring?" Bog questions. "I thought I couldn't leave the fae realm or I would die."

"As a halfling, you're not confined to either world," Babba explains. "You'll be able to travel back and forth like any full-blooded fae."

"The original plan was that one of us would return each time the portal was opened to see how everything was, take care of any business needed to be done, and then leave the McIntoshs to take care of the farm," Plum comments. "From what Tavish told me yesterday, Loch had already made such arrangements with him by telling him that he was planning on visiting his clan for a few months and I mentioned that was where I was taking you. Angus had quipped that you might be able to find a girl that was as crazy as you."

"I can't wait to see Angus' face when I tell him that I did meet a girl," Bog chuckles. "That's a good enough reason to explain why I'm not returning to the farm. They'd understand when I tell them that I just want to check on everything but I don't want to stay there anymore. How am I going to be able to explain why they can't contact me, though?"

"Also taken care of," Plum insists. "Loch explained years ago that his clan preferred the old ways and that was why the only modern convenience on the farm was the car. As far as anyone knows, Loch's clan is unreachable by anything but an in-person visit and that is nearly impossible because they don't like uninvited guests, so they never give out their location. Everything is taken care of and will be explained later, dear nephew. Your dinner is getting cold."

"One more question and then I'll finish my dinner," Bog pleads. "I've always wondered about it and now I want to know. What did ye do that caused Da and Ma to make ye my aunt?"

Plum and Puck's boisterous laughter resonates through the room. The sprite's grin looks no different from the imp's as she illustrates the story.

"Loch may be a worrier now but when he was young and impetuous...Oooh, he was so in love and threw caution to the wind when Griselda turned eighteen. Your mother, being the ever-sensible one, had to remind the love-struck man of his duties that spring equinox or he wouldn't have made it back to the portal in time," Plum starts, her giggles nearly over-powering the story. "Loch didn't feel that it was right to have Griselda join him in the fae realm since your grandparents were still alive and their daughter was their only living relative left. So he worked hard to get everything ready for his temporary departure but a few months passed and because your parents were so impatient...well Loch nearly had a panic attack when he dreamt of your mother getting a positive pregnancy test. He came to me for my help and I agreed to go to the human realm to help your mother. There is always a complication when dealing with halfling birthings, especially ones born in the human realm. Imagine our surprise when you were born human or so it seemed."

"He was born with a glamour?" Waylay questions.

"Bingo! Loch made it to the house just in time for the birthing, so he, Puck, and I were waiting for whatever magical mishap happened...except that," Plum chuckles. "We were just about sure that Bog took after Griselda when the glamour broke to reveal his true form. That was just the start, though. It wasn't until both Puck and I returned to the fae realm the next spring that we realized that one of us had to stay in the human realm at all times to help Loch keep Bog's magic under control. Puck preferred to stay hidden but that's not my style and so I showed up every few months to help Loch reinforce the binding spells. The aunt part started half as a joke to explain my presence until Griselda realized how happy that made me and made it official."

* * *

"To be truthful, I wasn't all that surprised when Puck and Sugar Plum announced that you were Loch King's son. You very much like him and your grandfather," Babba remarks.

Bog raises his eyebrow at the troll but still keeps his eyes on the leaving field army. Once dinner was finished there were a few loose ends to handle and that meant a trip down to the dungeons to the captive audience. Even though Plum had informed them hours ago about the changes, no one had felt it was right to release them until he had given the order. After making sure that none were badly injured and that all were compliant to the new order of things, Bog informed them to report to their queen in the field palace but nearly lost his regal facade at their expressions of finding out just who that was. Seems that Plum had kept a few things back during her explanation.

"The way you hold the forest crown, using it to express your mood, it's just like they used to," Babba continues, nodding to his restless shifting of the pendant. "When you yelled at me yesterday, I had a flashback of Moor King doing the same to another when I was a young troll and then when you offered your ear on the dais steps, I was reminded of Loch King that first year he was crowned. Now, you're worried but you have no reason to be. You'll be a good king and you've proved that when you took charge even when you didn't realize that you had a stake in our affairs."

"My magic is erratic," Bog grumbles. "Ye heard Aunt Plum, it's always been that way. How can I be sure that I won't do more damage than good?"

"I remember when Loch King was just a child, about seven-autumns-old I think," Waylay mentions. "There was this bird that he wanted to ride but it was a raven, eater of our kind, and therefore nobody tried to catch it to be tamed. Your father was so upset about it. I don't know who was more shocked, us or the bird, but somehow Loch had magicked it smaller to about the size of a sparrow."

"That's not as bad as me turning Grandda's dog into a stuffed toy when I was a baby," Bog mutters.

"The point is, Sire," Babba growls, stressing his title. "You being a halfling has nothing to do with the way your magic is. It's not that it's erratic but that you are very powerful despite being half-human and like the rest of your father's family, it's connected to your emotions."

"I learned to control my magic at the same time as Loch King and if you would like, I could teach you the things that were taught to him," Jamma suggests.

"I would like that," Bog agrees. "Though Da taught me everything he could and I learned so much through Marianne, it's not enough. I'm going to need all the help ye can give me. We only have a few short months before the meadow kingdom attacks and there is so much to do in so little time. To start with, does anyone of ye know of a forest sprite named Orchid?"

"There was a forest sprite named Orchid but she disappeared a year and a half ago," Fang mentions, the gremlin scratching his head. "If I remember correctly, she worked in one of the field counselor's home but I don't know which one."

"They claimed she left and didn't come back to work the next day," Jamma remarks. "Everyone assumed that she was eaten by something on her way home."

"She's still alive," Bog comments.

"How can you be sure?" Babba questions.

"You can't threaten to kill someone that is already dead," Bog murmurs. "Marianne wasn't completely unconscious when they threw her in the dungeons and had overheard a conversation between Sir Roland and Councilor James. It was an argument about him going through with his marriage to Dawn. The meadow kingdom is using Sir Roland's love for Orchid to force him into compliance."

"A meadow fairy in love with a forest sprite!" Waylay gasps. "The meadow queen must be furious!"

"Why would that make her mad?" Thang asks.

"Most meadow fae and especially the royal family do not agree with marriage outside their own race, not even with their own race of a different kingdom. It's even a law that is punishable by death in the meadow kingdom," Jamma explains. "I had thought that the meadow queen made an exception this year because Queen Theresa was a meadow fairy herself."

"More likely, the meadow queen is still holding a grudge about Queen Theresa's father tricking her into letting his family escape into the field kingdom under the guise of trading his wares," Bog quips. "Hopefully, Marianne has already made a search of all the houses but I did send a letter with the army, just in case. I'm sure Orchid is somewhere in the field and that she is well."

"But that is not why you brought it up, is it?" Waylay speculates.

"No," Bog admits, ceasing his shifting to lean the pendant's ornate head against his shoulder. "Advise me. How can I justly punish someone who committed a crime and did so with full knowledge but only as a result of protecting someone they loved? Sir Roland is guilty of multiple crimes against both the field and the forest, therefore he must be punished. However, it appears that he only committed those crimes because he was forced to do so. What's just in this situation?"

"That is a dilemma," Babba mutters. "I do have a suggestion, though. Since you already have each of the conspirators in separate dungeon cells, leave him there and if Orchid returns his love then allow her to visit him. When we defeat the meadow kingdom in the spring then you can figure out how best to be just but merciful toward him. That's the best advice I can give at the moment."

Bog gives his approval and gratitude at the advice. The rising moon catches his attention and reminds him that one day is nearly finished and another is soon to begin. The past two days were all about change in his life, some bad and some good but nothing was left unchanged. Bog shifts the pendant to allow him to see the amber stone and faintly he can make out his parent's form inside surrounded by those of his father's family long since passed. He smiles as the image disappears and turns his attention to all the fae nearby.

The halfling king knows the days ahead will be challenging to adjust to all the differences along with the added challenges of royal duties and an approaching war but it is comforting to know that he isn't alone. The thought of his waiting queen causes Bog's new wings to twitch. Yes, he isn't alone at all. Winter is the time to rest but spring will come and life will renew.


	10. Chapter 10 - Epilogue

**Chapter 10 - Epilogue**

"Where are you?" Marianne murmurs sleepily, reaching her arms around the halfling king.

"Right here," Bog chuckles, turning his attention away from the window.

"No, you're not. You're a million miles away, touching the stars," Marianne remarks.

"I'm just thinking," Bog comments, moving to face her. "About everything that changed since that fateful day before the winter solstice."

"Anything in particular?" Marianne asks. "I, personally, find great joy at remembering Queen Vesper's face when she came to invade with her army and found out that not only a healthy and strong field army was ready and waiting but so was a healthy and strong forest army."

"Ye forgot about her fainting when we arrived on the battlefront and they presented us as King and Queen of the Forest and Fields," Bog mentions, joining her laughter. "I think that was the shortest battle in history and a bit anticlimactic. Ye know, Da called them war-like but without their tricks and cheating to ensure they're going to win they're milder than newborn kittens."

"They may be that but they squawk louder then raven chicks," Marianne groans. "I preferred dealing with all those council meetings when I was younger than just trying to wrestle a peace agreement out of that old meadow sprite. How could she squall about the unfairness of it all when she was the one that started it?"

"At least now, the meadow kingdom will behave and stick to their own land for any trouble," Bog remarks. "They'll have enough problem on their hands anyway what with the talk of rebellion Orchid had overheard during her imprisonment in Councilor James' house. They've ignored the old ways for too long and have made their kingdom unstable. Now they're paying for it."

"It's kind of scary that the same thing almost happened here," Marianne murmurs, shivering at the thought. "It's a good thing that we decided to give Roland asylum before their so-called invasion. I hate to think what could have happened had we been forced to hand him over along with the other meadow kingdom spies."

"I would like to say again that I'm proud at how ye handled the whole Roland situation," Bog comments, kissing her forehead. "Such queenly grace and elegance."

"Flatterer," Marianne chuckles. "I couldn't refuse Orchid's heartfelt begging to give him an audience, nor could I refuse Roland's terrified pleas that we don't send him back to the meadow kingdom. It's nice to know that his congenial attitude that fooled us at first was actually his true ideals that he let shine through and all his cruelty from the first council meeting on was really his desperation to keep Orchid safe. He may have a long way to go to prove his trustworthiness but there is a surprisingly noble person under all that pomp. Babba mentioned today that he is adjusting quite well on her son's farm and that if he continues to show improvement then she's going to recommend that his ostracism is ended but not until at least next spring. Orchid is a little unhappy that she can't visit all the time, though, and Botch had to lecture her nine times already for sneaking onto his property."

"I'm surprised Babba hasn't complained to me about that yet," Bog laughs.

"She said that her youngest deserves the hassle, which is why she recommended his farm when you mentioned that you wanted Roland to work his punishment instead of staying in the dungeon. Beware a mother's wrath when she's tired of waiting for you to get married," Marianne quips, looking outside. "Speaking of which, I think it's safe to say both of our mothers are very pleased today."

Bog hums in agreement and returns to looking out of the window of their bedchambers. The secluded home, built within an oak that grew on both sides of the border, was a wedding present from Dagda and the elder forest counselors as a place to temporarily escape from their obligations. A very much appreciated present for the new couple and it gives them both a good view of the spectacular scene that started hours ago. The vibrant flora of the border sparkle in the darkness from the bright shimmering lights that dance among them and every so often, some of the lights take on the form of a long-gone member of either royal family.

"I think our family is very pleased about our wedding today," Bog muses, catching sight of his parents dancing. "I really hope they're not causing a scene in the human realm with all their revelry, though. It was hard enough to convince the McIntoshs that I was alright when I visited them this morning and if they start to believe that I was spirited away by fae then ye're going to have to rescue me from them when I visit in the summer solstice."

"I'll just have to come along and convince Angus that I'm real," Marianne murmurs. "It is funny how he made fun of you for believing in fairytales but he's the one worried about your long absence being the result of fairies kidnapping you."

"He's not exactly wrong," Bog chuckles. "Ye did kidnap me, did ye not, my queen? I remember not really wanting to leave my nice warm house."

"Your memory is faulty, my king," Marianne teases.

"Is it?" Bog questions. "I'm quite sure that I also remember Aunt Plum telling us to make good use of our weeklong honeymoon with no royal duties and that she expected the newest member of the royal family by the end of this year."

Bog hugs his blushing bride to him and gives his true love a searing kiss. Spring is the time for life to anew, after all.

 **The End**

 **All finished...for now. I do have a plan to revise and possibly re-edit the story in the future but for now, it's available for enjoyment. Constructive advice is appreciated but please refrain from criticism.**


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